Overwatch: Bluecoat's Story
by SenorGenerico
Summary: Talon is attacking, the Omnic Crisis is on the verge of happening again, and Overwatch is still under the Petras Act. Winston gets news of a vigilante in New York, but little does he know, he has history with both Overwatch and Talon
1. Bluecoat Strikes

**Note: This story is set in the late 2000s, around 2079-2080. Overwatch is trying to recruit new members to try to prevent world havoc without being shutdown by the UN because of the Petras Act. Talon is attacking everywhere, the Omnic Crisis is nearly repeating itself, and no one is capable of doing anything. Winston hears of a vigilante crime fighter in New York and tries to convince him to join Overwatch. Then the crazy rollercoaster ride begins. More will be revealed later on. **

Chapter I: Bluecoat Strikes

In a relatively quiet part of Chicago, it's a normal night in March, except for a dark van parked outside of a wealthy looking house. This house belonged to none other than famous omnic coach Sean Levine, responsible for bringing his school to multiple state championships, making his house all the more targeted by the gang that terrorised the city.

"Come on, hurry up with that loot! We need this delivered to the boss by midnight!" The leader of the heist shouted out. Being one of the highest ranked members, he was needed to get past the house's complex security system, his years of hacking coming into play. As his 6 lackeys carried various goods into the back of the van, Sean laid on the floor, beaten by the gang almost to the point of no repair. His lights continued to flicker on his head while he watched years of work be taken away with nothing to stop them.

"That's seems to be it," stated one of the grunts as he took in the outside of the house one last time before heading into the van full of priceless goods. "Hey, where's that recruit? Thought I told you to keep eyes on 'im," stated the boss, seeing his crew one short. "He was heavily drinking and said something about taking a piss," someone said in the back. "What are you waiting for? Bring him back here!" Without a second of hesitation, two of the five remaining grunts left to retrieve their drunken mate.

Upon making it to the backyard where he went to handle business, the duo found him face first in a bush. Trying not to snicker, they pulled him out, only to find a needle embedded into his neck. "Dude, you see th-" Another one found its place in the neck of the other grunt. Before long, he collapsed nearly falling into the pool behind him. Now on edge, the remaining thief pulled out his handgun, cautiously walking around. "I dare you to show yourself," he growled, hearing rustling in the hedge as a response. Gun aimed, he pulled back branches of the bush, only to find a stray cat looking for food. He sighed in relief, before getting kicked in the back of the leg. The last thing he saw? A man in a coat and the butt end of a pistol.

"These kids are making this the most unpleasant heist I've had since my first," sighed the leader. A thud is heard as one of the grunts falls over. "Hey, look at this!" exclaimed one of them as the leader rushed over, another dart found in the neck with unmatched precision. The final two are shut down by what seems to be EMP bullets, not killing them but rather shutting down their circuits. The last one left is the leader, armed with a silenced MP5.

"Enough games, kid! I'll blow your head right off!" shouted the leader. The car engine started by itself not long after. Cautiously with his gun raised, he opens the cabin, only to find no sign of forced entry. He turns around into a right hand landing right on the hinge of his jaw, knocking him to the ground. The gangster tries to reach for his gun again, but is stopped by a boot stomping forcefully on his hand, nearly breaking it immediately. Crying out in agony he squirms to no avail. As the thug looks up, he sees a figure that has only been rumored. The blue coat barely visible in the streetlight is the only indicator of who he is. The figure kneels down before bashing his nose with the butt of his own gun, knocking him out.

**_1st person POV:_**

After checking to make sure he's unconscious, I stand back up. The Black Division have terrorised this city for too long, and if the cops aren't going to respond, I have to stand up for this city myself. I like to think that I've done my job, but that's far from the truth. This is only a fraction of the people associated with them, and I'll be damned if they don't hunt me down. I here movement inside the house. Maybe I missed one?

As I walk in, I marvel the inside of Levine's house. He was the main reason Seabrook High School had any type of reputation around here. Hell, he tried to recruit me for the football team before I left to join the army as soon as I turned 18 in August. Who would've guessed that this would end full circle? I see his body on the floor, heavily beaten, but still functional. I don't know much about omnic care, but I try my best to set him up on his couch before handing him a phone nearby. "Thank you," his voice box manages to get out. "How can I repay you?" I grin behind my mask. He's still as generous as he was 8 years ago. "I don't do this for money, Levine. Use that phone to call 911. My job is done."

"Wait," be struggles to get out. "Are you the one I hear about on TV. Bluecoat is it? You sound a lot like someone I remember from my golden age of coaching." I turn back around. Sean Levine, the omnic that has put almost 20 years of his life into doing something he loves. Seen as a father figure to most on the team. Over a dozen championships won for the Titans under his coaching. Did he deserve the answer I was about to give him? Maybe not, but I have to keep myself as secretive as possible, at least this version of me. "Don't tell them anything you might suspect about me. Keep it to yourself." With that, I walked out of his house.

_Next morning, 10:07 AM..._

The light coming through my window blinds me enough to the point were sleeping is no longer an option. After stretching my sore body, I get up and do my regular morning activities. After walking out of the shower and dressing for the day, I turn the TV on to the news channel since nothing interesting comes on until later. The first thing to come on the TV is the headline that was bound to happen.

**MYSTERIOUS "BLUE COAT" STRIKES AGAIN.**

I finish pouring the milk into my bowl of Lucio-Ohs and listen to the remainder of the news story. The onsite reporter interviewing Levine asks the question everyone in the city wanted to know "Do you know who this person may be?" "The only thing I remember is a blue trench coat."

"If anyone has a tip to finding out who this man with a blue coat is, please contact the local police." As I eat my cereal, thoughts go through my head. What do the police want from me? Do they see me as a prisoner or as aid to their cause to shut down the gang running roughshod? I have to push these thoughts to the back burner of my mind as I head out to do errands.

**_Location: Watchpoint: Gibraltar_**

**_POV: Winston _**

After sending out the recall, there's been very little activity done on the watchpoint. The only people that have been found and contacted through Athena are Angela, Genji, Jesse, and Lena. Tracer is the only one to reply and has plans to show up tonight. Until she shows up, I need to make sure everything is prepared.

"Winston, there has been reports of a vigilante in Albany, New York." This grabs my attention because while it's normal to get alerts with high attention, it's normally Talon and never a vigilante. "Hmm, is there any information on who he might be?" "His nickname 'Bluecoat' has been given to him by local news stations ever since January of this year." This is rather odd. How come there is no information on this person? In the middle of my thoughts, I get a call notification on the screen. After reading the name, I immediately press the accept button.

**Winston**: Long time no see, cowboy.

**McCree**: Same can be said for you.

**W**: So you're deciding to join overwatch I see?

**M**: Damn right

**W**: That's great! Although there's one favor I need to ask you before you return.

**M**: Depends. Don't wanna waste my rounds.

**W**: Hopefully you don't need them. Besides, we still have plenty of rounds from before. I've gotten news of a vigilante in Albany, New York. If you're up for it, I need you to see what his motives are and possibly recruit him.

**M**: Bit of a travel from where I'm at, but nothin' I can't do.

**W**: Great! I'm sending a dropship to your location from Grand Mesa. The flight should be about 10 hours from your location in Arizona. Message me if you can afterwards.

**M**: Makin' it seem like I ain't gettin' out with that "if you can." Catch up later.

After hanging up the call, I admire the view of what will soon be Watchpoint: Gibraltar, bustling with activity like the old days.

**_Location: Chicago, IL _**

**_Time: 5:32 PM EST_**

**_POV: Bluecoat_**

After my run through the local park, I head inside my house and shower. Afterwards, I decide to relax for the first time in a while by watching TV. Not even a minute later I get a knock at my door. It's probably the kids ding dong ditching again. As I open the door, I'm greeted by a familiar face I'd never thought I'd see again.

"Jesse?"


	2. Rekindled Bond

**Chapter II: Rekindled Bond**

**Bluecoat POV:**

Never in my life would I think I would see the outlaw Jesse McCree again, especially after what happened after all those years. It was probably safe for everyone to assume he was dead. He looked the same, except for the mechanical left arm and the scruffy beard that developed.

"Well, are you just going to stare at me or let me in? I'm not used to it being this cold in March," Jesse said as I invited him in. He was dressed like an actual cowboy; a red serape, a huge belt buckle reading out "BAMF", boots complete with spurs, and most importantly, a hat that you'd see in an old western. It wasn't noticeable at first, but he also seemed to have lost weight.

"Well, this isn't how I'd thought we'd be reunited, Kassius," said the outlaw as he made himself at home on my couch, which kind of annoyed me because I had cleaned the entire living room earlier today. "I honestly thought you would've been dead at this point," my first thought leaving my mouth. "A lot of people did, especially someone I knew from back then. Hell, seeing you is a miracle. But I'm just going to get straight to the point.

"Winston initiated the recall and I was one of the few lucky individuals to be chosen first. He got word of a certain vigilante getting rid of a gang around here and I was tasked with finding him. Hopped on a plane and I was lead to this little apartment thanks to the help of a little robot. Now I have a ques-"

"No."

The answer left an uncomfortable silence in the air that lasted forever. The only sound to be heard was the background noise of the TV playing some sort of game show. "Well, can I at least get some reason?" Jesse was always someone who shot first and asked questions later. Hearing him be this inquisitive was an unwelcome change, especially now.

"You of all people should know how painful it is to talk about the past. You came from an infamous gang in the Southwest, and we all know if Gabe didn't decide to show mercy, you would've stayed on that self destructive path until it killed you." There it was again. That painful silence that consumed the room. McCree was wearing an expression that had a combination of hurt and anger.

"If you're looking to bring me back there, you might as well just leave. I've had my time and I intend to keep it behind me," I say as I grab a water bottle from the fridge. Jesse stayed still before standing up and heading over to the kitchen. Looking me in the eyes, he stands in the entrance way. "We've all got demons, Kassius. Whether we decided to let them consume our lives is up to us. Keep your sorrow to yourself. Just know that we'll be keeping an eye on you."

With that he heads out the door. I let it close before letting go of the breath I wasn't aware I was holding. I digest the words he left me with, thinking it over and over. He's had a past riddled with mistakes that I'm sure he wants to correct. If I want to keep my past behind me, I need to start now. Hesitantly, I set my bottle down and follow him out the door. He hasn't made it far down the corridor before I catch up to him. Before I can tell him what I plan on doing, I see another face I didn't plan on seeing today. "You've got to be shitting me."

Coming through the stairwell at the end of the gaskets hallway is the gang leader himself, James Xander, clad in black and surrounded by a posse of 10 people, all armed with SMGs all all aiming at me. Before they can shoot, me and Jesse book it back to my room, barely dodging bullets by the skin of our teeth. I lock the door, Jesse already pulling out his famed Peacekeeper.

"You know these people?" Jesse asks, loading up his gun. "Let's just say that I might've prevented their chances to steal valuable loot more than once," I say grabbing my desert eagle from the locker in my room. This scene reminds me of a mission back with a small strike team led by Blackwatch. It didn't go as sour as Venice, but Morrison was pissed regardless.

I hear their footsteps approaching the door, and we both know it won't be long before they kick the door down. "You still keep those flashbangs with you, right?" I say. "Heh, you know it," Jesse says before he opens the door and tosses one right outside. After a few seconds, we hear our cue to ambush them. He takes the right side and fans the hammer onto some poor unsuspecting souls, while I punch one in the temple and shoot another in the chest.

The rest of the men are taken care of fairly easily, seeing as McCree had the aim of a true marksman and I, well, had decent aim. "Hey, where's the guy with the flat top?" Jesse asked, noticing only masked mercenaries.

Xander.

I bolt down the hallway, only to see the elevator was already heading down to ground level. Cursing to myself, I take the next option and basically jump down the stairs. At this point I'm regretting not buying the apartment down on the second floor in favor of the view.

I make it down to the ground and can hear shouts of "Go, go, go!" to my left. Sprinting to the parking lot, I barely manage to catch the black hovercar before it speeds away. "Damn it," I say to myself before Jesse's footsteps take over the sounds of the car. "You got anything that can catch up?" Jesse asks. "I do, but it's a bit awkward." He sighs as I walk over to a motorcycle. McCree, with obvious disdain over his face, walks over to the motorcycle and positions himself behind me. After starting up the engine, I tear through the parking lot and zoom through the streets on the hunt for Xander.

"He can't be far, keep your eyes peeled," I shout at Jesse as he reloads his pistol. "My memories of riding on the back of a motorcycle aren't that fond. Especially with you as the driver." The memory of McCree flying into a bush creeps into my mind, and I'm pretty sure he could sense me smiling. Not long after, I spot James' car pulling into a safehouse, with him booking it towards the entrance. With his unmatched precision, McCree manages to shoot his right hand some 300 feet away from the door, causing Xander to drop down in pain.

As I drift into the driveway, Xander is still trying to scurry into the doorway. I stomp on his good hand to ensure he doesn't reach the knob. "So, you're the one behind all of this. Never thought I'd have a run-in with a gang like this again," McCree said, cigar still in his mouth and the Peacekeeper holstered for now. "This is him. I specifically remember his face from my first meeting with him," I say bringing him up, disarming him of any weapons he had. "Please, you need to let me go! There's higher-ups that need me! I can't keep letting them down!" Xander said in a panicked tone, fearing for his life. "Aren't you the leader in all of this? Quit trying to bullshit your way outta this. Let's take him." "No! You don't understand. I'm merely a pawn in this oper-"

A loud boom echoes through the streets, as James slumps to the ground, a bullet finding a new home in his brain. Jesse and I frantically look for the source before another shot nearly takes our heads off. "You have any idea who that could be?" Jesse says hiding behind the car. "No one owns a sniper rifle in here. But I think I know who does."

The two grunts that drove Xander to the house walk out, unsuspecting of their leader being taken out. Before long, two shots find their mark and they soon join each other on the ground. "What kind of man has that kind of accuracy?" Jesse asks.

"That's no man," I tell him. "It's not even human."


End file.
